


[Retired] Of Faeries and Angels

by AerisLei



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Character Study, Other, spoilers may apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AerisLei/pseuds/AerisLei
Summary: A Character Study of Helen Blackthorn. Short stories told (mostly) from Helen's eyes throughout her youth, to get a feel for how she might have been, before the Exile - more than our limited look at her in City of Heavenly Fire.





	1. La Belle Dame Sans Merci

**Author's Note:**

> So these short stories comprise a character study that I'm doing of Helen Blackthorn for a roleplay. They are not considered canon to the roleplay because I haven't gotten consent from anyone playing the other characters featured. Some may be chosen to remain “canon” for our telling, but really... this is meant for exploration. We don't know much about Helen before she was exiled – we know little of their family dynamics. This seemed to be the best way to explore the confines of her head. 
> 
> Family ages are slightly messed up because I'm working with the outlines given by my roleplay group. Present-day Helen is 19. Mark is roughly 17 (unplayed, and thus not in stone). Julian is 16. And Livia (and thus Tiberius) are 14. Drusilla and Octavian do not have their ages set in stone, so for my purposes Dru will be considered to be 12 and Tavvy will be 6 in keeping with their proper age spacing from their elder siblings. Yes I am aware that Helen is meant to be 6 years older than Julian and she's not, this condensing was done to bring their siblings up to as close to a “playable” age as possible for the purpose of our roleplay. I will not be repeating ages for everyone every story, I will be stating Helen's age to give something of a timeline. I shall attempt to keep them in chronological order, but I make no promises.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Institute Mother-children fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helen is 3. This is pre-Institute. She has little memory of the event in present-day. Because of this, this particular story is told mostly from her mother's eyes. Features Nerissa and Helen, with a cameo of (unnamed) Meliorn and infant Mark.

Sea colored eyes watched the little winged creature flutter just out of reach, giggling as she took a stumbling step towards it and then fell onto the soft grass beneath her bare feet. “A dragonfly,” her mother told her, in a mild tone. But the word meant little to Helen, of course. Sea colored eyes, her father's eyes. Nerissa knew this. Blue and green mixed just so - Nerissa had loved his eyes. The girl did not, in fact, have her father's hair. Nay, the toddler's hair had grown in white blonde - the same as Nerissa's own.

The toddler crawled forward a little more towards where the creature had landed on a plant just a little ways away. Childlike eyes stared in wonder. She was too young to grasp the expanse of what lay all around her, of course. Faerie, the whole of Underhill. Though they were in a sheltered glade near the Seelie court territory. A small sheltered glade that Nerissa seemed to will into existence just for them – certainly Nerissa's rank and power kept others from coming too near, from bothering the little girl as she explored and danced and played. All she knew was this little glade and the cavern they lived in. Never had she seen the full of the Faerie court - and it would be a while yet before Nerissa allowed her to. Faerie was beautiful and ugly, as were it's people. Better to keep the girl safe until she could learn to defend herself.

At least, usually Nerissa's warding managed to keep strangers away. “Honestly Nerissa, do you intend to keep her as a pet?”

The little girl didn't seem to notice him, still intent on her dragonfly. After ascertaining that her daughter wouldn't get into too much trouble, the Seelie princess turned to face their intruder – guest? No, not guest, he had not been invited here. “You would do to be politer. She's not so different from you.” In a pointed tone. The Seelie knight was, himself, a halfling. “She is mine blood, I'll not tolerate threats to her.” A darkening warning tone. They may be of the bright court, but angering a Faerie was unwise. The Knight would know that.

“I'm not threatening only... concerned. Shadowhunter blood breeds truer than most.”  
“I would have thought the very clear do not disturb spells would keep you and your concern away from my children. I'll bring them to court when its time.”  
“That's not what I meant.”  
“Go. You do not have my leave to be here. “  
“The Queen-”  
“Certainly does not require my presence. If she did, she would send someone else.” They both knew who would come, if she were being summoned to the queen's side. “A seelie knight does not belong with children who are not his own.”  
“So you're concerned then that the court will hurt them? That's why you're hiding here.” A pause. "I do not wish to harm you or your get, Lady."  
“I'm not hiding. I'm raising my children in peace. Now leave me.”  
There was a slight sigh, but the knight said no more.

He was gone, as quietly as he had come. Nerissa turned back to her daughter then, only to find the girl laying in the grass with the dragonfly sitting on her hand, wings beating slowly. “Helen, it's time to go inside.” It was not the name Nerissa would have chosen, but Andrew had. Why she continued to call the girl that... was complicated. Besides, changing her name would have been difficult - soothing her when she'd cried, obviously wanting someone other than her mother had been hard enough. The month after Andrew returned to the mundane world had been hard. It still was hard, sometimes, when Helen would be getting ready for bed and then suddenly throwing a temper-tantrum for no clear reason.

The little girl pushed herself up off the grass and clumsily rose to her feet. Toddling to her mother's side, grabbing at her skirts, obviously asking to be picked up. Nerissa obliged, lifting the girl, and carrying her into the natural space they were using as a shelter. A cave, mundanes would have called it. But it was a well-warded cave, and it served her purposes well.

Nerissa set Helen down, apparently to examine what a pixie had brought earlier – food stuffs, mostly. It was a few moments before she turned back around, intending to say something to her daughter – and realized the girl was gone.

Now, Helen couldn't have gotten back outside, the Princess knew that. To do that she would have had to pass through the wards, and those would have told her about Helen's leaving. But where had she gone...? Within a moment she'd gone through half of the chambers in their living space, keenly aware that she had no idea where the toddler could have gotten to. At least, not until she heard the soft babbling in the nursery.

To Mark. Of course. Nerissa stood in the doorway of the nursery for a moment, letting out a soft breath of relief. Helen stood on top of the steps by the cradle – put there for exactly that reason. If they weren't there, Helen climbed on all sorts of things, trying to see into the cradle where her brother slept. No, it was safer to have something stable for the girl who was very curious about her infant brother as it turned out.

It was adorable, really, listening to her daughter attempt to mimic the lullaby that Nerissa sung them both in a babbling hum. If only this could last. This gentle peace and freedom. If only Andrew could have stayed with them, then they'd be a proper family, the way it should be. Such was not the way of the world.

“Helen. No.” Her tone was sharp, like a whip crack – the girl thankfully froze, eyes widening. But no, climbing into the cradle with her brother was a bad idea, lest she hurt the infant. Or worse, topple the whole cradle. It wasn't as if Helen was very graceful yet.

“M- Mar?”  
“Yes, Mark. After dinner you can play with him.” Sternly. And yet at the same time, her heart melted a little. That... was the first thing beyond a babble Helen had ever properly formed. It wasn't perfect, but trust the girl's first word to be her brother's name. Nerissa found that she was thankful, more than anything, that it was her brother's name, rather than a plea for the father she would never see again.

\-----

Nerissa had never known a child to be so gentle with another. Faerie children often held rivalries with one another, even from a very young age. But Nerissa saw nothing of the sort in the way her daughter treated the infant. Perhaps it would change as they aged, but perhaps not. There was a gentleness about Helen that had to have come from her father. Perhaps it was simply that Helen had hardly ever known a world without her brother in it. After all, Faerie children were often spaced out much more than these two had been - they might as well have been twins, by Faerie standards.

Helen was laying on her stomach with her chin propped on her hands just a little way away from Mark who was laying on his back, playing with a toy that Helen would occasionally reach over and nudge to keep it moving. After a bit Helen crawled forward and turned around a bit, laying herself beside the boy on the blanket that was spread out to keep him off the floor of the cavern. "Mar." She said happily, though her tone had a sleepy quality to it. It was only a few moments later that Helen drifted off, happy as can be to be able to lay beside Mark.

Sometimes though, Nerissa watched the girl with her brother and wondered if she could ever really manage in the Faerie court where there were smiles and not-quite-truth's aplenty. Helen was only three, perhaps it was too soon to tell. But some small part of Nerissa hated the idea of seeing her father's gentleness crushed out of her. Hated the idea of seeing her Andrew's eyes on a face twisted by the same sorts of amusements that Nerissa's own sister enjoyed.

The same amusements that, ultimately, cost Nerissa her mate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's title "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" comes from a Poem that Andrew Blackthorn supposedly read to his faerie children often, to the point of more-or-less making them memorize it. It's a ballad by John Keats. Title is roughly "The Beautiful Lady without Mercy".


	2. Late Night Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen and Mark, abandoned on the Institute's doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helen is 5, takes place in spring when the weather is not too extreme one way or the other. Helen and Mark Blackthorn centric with appearances of Nerissa and (eventually) Andrew and Eleanor Blackthorn.

The weather wasn't the best for a walk. Young Helen wasn't sure what her mother wanted, or why they were coming out here this late. The ocean was nearby - she could smell it, hear it even. She was walking a little ways behind her mother, holding Mark's hand. It had been dark for a while yet, and Helen knew from experience that if the clouds hadn't covered the spring sky that the half-moon would hang high over head by now. They stopped before a building that stood alone here on something of a hill. Helen could hear the oceans waves nearby. She wondered how close they were - but in the dark night under the thick cloud cover, she couldn't see them.

Their mother had stopped walking, so Helen stopped too, still down the stairs. It hadn't started to rain quiet yet. She looked confused. "Mom?" She said in a wavering voice, after a moment. "Mom it's going to rain, we should go home. Can't this wait?"

"No. It can't." Her tone was strange, Helen hadn't ever heard anything like it before. It was.... cold. Not the usually warm voice reserved for her children. It was a tone the likes of which she'd only heard one time that she could remember, when mommy had been arguing with some strange man."Come here."

Helen trudged up the steps, still pulling Mark along by the hand. She stopped there on the top step beside their mother.

"You won't understand this. I'm not asking you to." Nerissa said in a short tone. "But you must stay here. The people inside will find you, they will take care of you."

"But mom-"  
"I don't want you anymore." Her tone was bitter ice. "And if you try to return to my home I won't shield you from the court."

The words rolled through Helen like something of a slap. Hurt and betrayal crossed her young face. 

"Tell them you are Nerissa's daughter. They'll know who you are. They'll take care of you." Nerissa repeated, firmly, and then she was gone.

Helen tried to follow her in the darkness, releasing Mark's hand to do so. But only a few moments later she returned to her brother's side, bluegreen eyes stinging with tears. It wasn't surprising when Mark grabbed onto her shirt, clinging tightly to her side. An arm dropped down, wrapping around him tightly, pressing him to her, feeling the way he shivered there against her. It wasn't cold, really. At least not to Helen but... it began to rain. Helen pulled Mark as close to the wall as she could. The roof's construction was such that they weren't really getting wet, but they couldn't sit down or anything without that changing. 

"Sissy? ...Mommy?" Helen didn't respond, she just hugged him a little tighter and pressed her eyes tightly shut against the tears that threatened to spill. If their mother could abandon them here on a stranger's doorstep how could Helen really trust that the people inside would take care of them? How would mom know? Did she even care what might happen to them?

"It'll be okay Mark." Helen said in a quiet voice. "It'll be okay." She sounded more sure than she felt, or at least, Helen hoped she did. He was still shaking, and the wind was starting to change. Helen realized they were getting wet. She turned a little, putting Mark against the door itself and herself between him and the rest of the world. It kept her little brother much drier than any other arrangement might've, which was all Helen really cared about. 

Though... she could reach the handle. Helen wondered if she could open the door, or if it would be locked against her. Helen wasn't really familiar enough with this world to know, exactly. She'd only rarely been here with their mother, having spent most of her young life in Faerie. It didn't really look like a house, more like a church, even to her inexperienced eyes. It tugged at a memory, something her mother had said. But Helen couldn't pull it out all the way, so she stopped trying. 

Dimly she knew Mark was crying against her, and it hadn't taken long for Helen to be soaked to the skin. The light dress she wore wasn't made for this type of weather, and she could feel the way her hair was getting wet and starting to drip. 

Finally Helen decided she was going to try the door. The worst thing that happened was it didn't open, right? Right. ...Well. The occupants of the building might not be too thrilled to find strangers inside. Helen bit at her lip for a moment, considering that. But if they stayed like this eventually Mark was going to get wetter than he already was by virtue of Helen's clothing. After several moments of deliberation Helen took the knob in her hand and twisted, making a startled noise as it came open for her. 

Helen herded Mark inside, but kept her hand wrapped around his arm so he didn't stray far. She closed the door behind her. After a moment her eyes adjusted to the darkness enough for Helen to lead him to a blank space near the wall but out of the way of the door, in case someone else came and opened it from outside. She sat on the floor and pulled Mark into her lap, getting him settled against her shoulder. It was then that the tears started to fall, in the darkness of a strange place. But they were inside, and they were together. 

They'd be okay, somehow, just as long as they were together. 

\---

It was morning, Helen supposed. She'd fallen asleep against the wall, cuddling her brother as if he were her only lifeline. But then, in a way he was. He was the only thing she had left, now. She was stiff, and her neck hurt from the way her head had fallen while she dozed. Mark was still sleeping though, and Helen hesitated to wake him. She did wonder though when the supposed inhabitants of this place would make an appearance.

And it was as if her thoughts had summoned someone. Helen's eyes widened as she realized there was a woman in the doorway, staring at them. She was pretty, Helen thought. ... Not as pretty as her own mother. Thought stung, bringing tears back to her bluegreen eyes which she fought back with several rapid blinks. 

"Andrew! There are children in the entrance hall!" The woman seemed to be calling out to someone... else.

Her voice startled Mark awake, and Helen hugged him a little tighter, whispering to him to keep him from getting too upset. 

He came then. And Helen stared at him for a long time. He was... familiar. Someone she'd seen before, but didn't know. She didn't know why she knew him, either. Just that she did. 

"Helen?" His voice was cautious, obviously surprised. "...And that must be Mark."

He knew her name. Blue-green eyes narrowed, but she nodded. "That's right." In a small voice. "Mommy said... said to tell you that we were Nerissa's children. She said she didn't want us anymore." 

What Andrew thought of that was hard to tell, of course. He said nothing for a long time, at least, not to Helen. He spoke in a whisper to the woman who had found them first. Finally he turned back to Helen. "I don't suppose you remember me?"

"Not really."   
"My name is Andrew Blackthorn. I'm your father, Helen."  
"How do I know you aren't lying?"  
"I suppose you don't." He admitted, quietly. "Are you or Mark hungry?"

It didn't really matter, Helen supposed, if he was lying. Mommy had left them here. They were at his mercy. "N- kinda." Flushing scarlet. She'd been intending to say no, but her stomach growled loudly, as if to protest the lie, however innocent it was. Carefully Helen helped stand Mark up on his feet before rising to her own, slowly.


	3. I'm Still Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen is 5, still. This is a few weeks after she came to the Institute. Features Eleanor-as-mom fluff. Julian and Andrew make appearances as well.

Institute. That's what this place was, according to Mister Andrew and Miss Eleanor. Institute. It was a church, she was right, kind of. Home to the Nephilim. Mister Andrew said she was part Nephilim, and that's why the door had opened for her. He said that's how he'd known that Helen was his daughter. It was strange, trying to think of him as her father, because mommy had said she'd never see him again. Mark's room was right next to hers and shhh don't tell but she slept with him every night since they got here. He was the only thing familiar at all.

Helen didn't feel like sitting with her tutor today. Okay, Mrs. Eleanor wasn't exactly her tutor. She was... Andrew's wife. Adoptive mother, Helen supposed. She was supposed to be learning to read, but today Helen's head hurt and when she stood up or sat up too long she felt funny, like the world was turning circles around her. So instead of obediently trudging to the library where Eleanor was waiting for her, Helen was laying down with the lights off in her room, trying to pretend she wasn't there at all. She wished she was home, mommy would have made her feel better. Moms were good at that. The thought stung - this wasn't home. Helen wasn't sure it ever could be.

Of course, Helen hadn't tried to tell anyone she didn't feel well. So it wasn't quite fair to assume they wouldn't at least try. Not that Helen really wanted to be fair right then. Because she didn't.

Unfortunately pretending she wasn't here hadn't worked, because that was Miss Eleanor standing in the doorway, watching her where she lay curled. She had kind eyes, Helen thought. She didn't look angry even though Helen hadn't come like she was supposed to. "Helen." Her voice was gentle, but there was a very light edge to it. "Is there a reason you didn't come to the library like I asked?" She wasn't demanding, but Helen shrank into herself a little anyway.

"Don't... feel so good." As if Helen wasn't sure that was the right thing to say at all. What if Eleanor decided she didn't want to take care of her anymore, because she was too much trouble? Where would she go if the place mommy left them didn't want her, either. She hadn't meant to be trouble she'd just wanted to nap a little until the pain went away.

Eleanor's eyes softened a little. "You should have said something at breakfast, sweetheart."

Helen shifted a little - a shrug. Though the way she was laying didn't lend itself to that.

Eleanor crossed the room a moment later, perching on the edge of the bed near the little girl. Gentle hands brushed tangled white-gold curls out of the way, brushing the fair skin beneath. "Mm. You are running a bit of a fever. Stay put a bit, I'll bring you something for it." And then she was gone, quick as she'd come.

Helen stayed curled up where she was, waiting for Eleanor to come back, trusting that she would. It didn't take her very long, much to Helen's surprise. "Drink this." Eleanor advised, offering it to the girl, who obediently sat up a little to drink the potion. It didn't taste very good, but she was at their mercy anyway. And they hadn't hurt her yet. Not that mommy had given any indication that she was going to - anyway. Her breath caught a little and her eyes shone, looking like she might cry for a moment before it was gone again.

"Now, I don't now how it was before, but Helen, you have to tell me if something's wrong. I can't fix it otherwise."

Helen nodded a fraction, bluegreen eyes watching her, obviously trying to figure something out.

"Now get some rest. I'll be back up to check on you in a bit."  
"Will... will you read to me? Until I fall asleep?" Softly, slightly over-large eyes flicking away from Eleanor as she spoke.

Eleanor nodded a little, though if she was surprised by the childish request from Helen, she didn't show it.

\-------

It was the first night Helen had tried to sleep in her own room since coming to the institute. It wasn't going well. Without the comforting feeling of Mark nearby all the little noises that this place made that weren't different from home, they were scary. The shadows danced and witchlight was a funny color. Helen hadn't ever really been afraid of the dark before but this was different. She couldn't help but wonder, sort of, if Mark was okay alone. He was younger than her, and she was terrified. 

She was going to check on him, Helen reasoned. If he was sleeping soundly she'd come back and try to go back to bed. Helen crept from her room into the hallway, pausing just in the doorway to his room. Andrew and Eleanor were just across the hall, and Julian's cradle was in the room with his parents, Helen knew. She didn't want to wake them up. Hm. Mark really was sleeping. Her singing for him before bed must have done the trick. Helen had begun to withdraw, intending to go back to her room, when she began to hear muted fussing from the other room. 

Helen couldn't quite say what possessed her just then, but she slipped into the room where the adults were sleeping - no, just Eleanor, she realized suddenly. Andrew must have been out still, looking into the reported demon from earlier. That report had come in with dinner, he was still gone? Helen wondered how hard it had been for mo- Miss Eleanor to fall asleep knowing he wasn't home yet. Her eyes were already well adjusted to the darkness, so Helen padded forward towards the cradle on the eastern side of the room. 

She leaned over the cradle a bit, wiggling her fingers like she did sometimes for Mark. Julian seemed to find this funny, because he burbled a little and grabbed at Helen's hand. She let him, only lightly tugging to keep it interesting. Her free hand rocked the cradle gently. Helen was too intent on the baby to hear the light footsteps coming down the hall signaling Andrew's return home, finally.

"Helen?" His voice was soft, obviously trying not to awaken Eleanor just a few feet away. "What are you doing?"  
Helen jumped, pulling her hand away from Julian hastily - who promptly began to wail. "Oh no, Shhh shh. Julian shh. You're alright." Her voice was soft, and held a lilt to it that could only be her mother's fault. She rocked the cradle a little, but didn't give her hand back to the infant. It was too late, of course, Eleanor had woken to the suddenly much louder sounds of the awake baby. "He was awake, but not crying really. I was trying to see if I could lull him back to sleep without bothering mom." The words came out in a rush, almost before she registered them. It had been working, too. Until Andrew scared her. Helen decided not to point that out. "He was falling back asleep holding my hand, like Mark does sometimes, so I didn't think he needed anything really." Normally when Mark needed something he was inconsolable until someone figured it out.

"Well thank you, Helen. That was very sweet of you to try." Eleanor murmured. If she was surprised by Helen calling her 'mom' however suddenly, she didn't comment on it. The woman did rise and wander over to the cradle though, picking up the infant.

"What that doesn't explain," Andrew began, "Is why you were out of your bed in the first place."  
"I couldn't sleep." In a small voice. "So I got up to check and see if Mark was okay. ... Better than me, still sleeping apparently. An' then I heard Julian." She said his name carefully, like she wasn't too sure of the sound of it yet.   
"Any reason you couldn't sleep?"  
"Andrew stop interrogating her." Eleanor murmured, a bit of a mrr of laughter in her tone. "And probably because she was trying to sleep in her own room for once and realized she was lonely without Mark beside her. But he was already asleep, of course, because she helped him fall asleep earlier. And she didn't want to wake him."  
"...Right." So she knew then, already, that Helen hadn't been sleeping in her own bed. Mommy would have frowned at her for it. But miss Eleanor seemed not to mind.

"It's okay, you know. To not be ready to be alone. I know the institute is still strange to you." Eleanor seemed to be addressing her now. "You should try and get some sleep now though. I'm sure your brother won't mind if you crawl in bed with him." She advised mildly.

Helen took that for the dismissal it was and scampered across the hall to curl up with Mark. 

It was easier than Helen expected sliding into bed with him, without disturbing the three year old's peaceful dreaming. She was supposed to be the big sister. She was supposed to comfort him, not the other way around. That was how it was supposed to be, right? But... it was kind of nice, taking solace in the fact that he was here with her. Delicately she draped an arm around him, and that was the last thing Helen really remembered that night.


	4. The First Runes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen's first runeing. It's a special time in a shadowhunter child's life - and an especially important step for the child of a Shadowhunter and a Downworlder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helen is 10 years old. If I can do math at all I listed the proper siblings for her age in the story. I'm so sorry if this doesn't properly match my timeline.

White-gold curls spilled across Helen's shoulders. They fall down to the middle of her back, Helen knows. Carefully placed bobby pins were hidden in the curls, keeping the waterfall of gold carefully behind her ears with only two smaller pieces loose to frame her face. She wore a low-backed scarlet silk dress. It was not the sort of thing her father would typically allow - but the low back was important for today's ceremony. She wanted her new rune on her back, after all.

Bluegreen eyes studied her in the mirror - her own eyes, her father's eyes. Helen was glad she had her father's eyes. Though... she was sad, a little. Most days she couldn't remember her mother's eyes anymore.

But today wasn't a day to think of her mother. Aside from the low back on the haltered red dress, it was quite long, falling well passed her knees. She thought she looked good in it. Red was a lovely color against her fair skin, bringing a vibrance to her skin that it generally lacked. She was fair and lanky - very slender. It was hard to say how she'd continue to change as her body grew, Helen knew. But she'd always been so... scrawny. 

"Your hair looks lovely when you wear it like that." Eleanor's voice came from the doorway. Helen glanced up in the mirror to see her step-mother standing there, watching her.  
"Father hates it." Helen retorted, almost defiant.  
"No, he doesn't. He just thinks it makes you look too old for your age." Bemused. "It's normal for daddies to want their little girls to stay little."  
"I... don't think that's it." Helen murmured, gaze dropping slightly, and with it her shoulders hung low.  
"Uh-uh. Sit up straight, that's bad for your back. Not a good habit to get in to."  
"Sorry, mom." It was still odd sometimes calling Eleanor that, but her eyes lit slightly with joy every time Helen did it. Helen liked to see that light in her eyes. Sometimes, it was almost like she and Mark belonged here in the institute with Miss Eleanor and Andrew and Julian and Livia and Tiberius.

If nothing else, Eleanor really did treat them as if they were her own children. It'd been five years since Helen came to the institute and never once had Eleanor treated her any differently than she treated the others. Andrew didn't really, either. But sometimes dad was... strange with her and Mark. Helen pretended she didn't know why. Most of the time, she really didn't. He'd claimed them, when they first came here. Yet sometimes... sometimes Helen wondered if he regretted letting them stay. She didn't voice that, not to Eleanor, nor to her father.

"Are you ready, dearest? It's time, if you are." Eleanor didn't seem to want to rush Helen. The Half-Faerie knew why, of course. This was an important ceremony, but if Helen wasn't mentally and physically ready for it, it would kill her. This was, after all, the moment of truth. Either Helen could bear runes and could stay at the institute, could continue to train as a Shadowhunter. Or she could not bear runes and she would have to leave, perhaps be forced to return to the Faerie court. Helen took a deep breath, and then released it slowly.

"I'm coming, I'm ready." She rose from the vanity, feeling the silk skirt fall loosely around her calves as she did so. The Silent Brothers were here, it was now or never. Helen would be lying if she said she wasn't frightened, but she held herself tall anyway, following Eleanor down into one of the larger rooms where her parents and siblings could watch the Marking take place.

For a moment though, Helen froze in the doorway behind Eleanor, staring at the hooded figure near her father. She'd heard of them of course, read about them in lessons. But Helen had never  _seen_ one, and the experience was all together unsettling. She let out a long breath that might have been construed as a sigh, had anyone noticed it, and continued moving across the room. Andrew smiled at her encouragingly, motioning for her to seat herself before them. 

"This is Brother Zachariah." Andrew introduced.

Helen sat stiffly, her muscles gone wire-tight in something akin to fear. The Silent Brothers, Helen decided, were eerie. But weren't they supposed to be bald? Helen thought she spotted dark hair beneath the raised tan hood.   
_"Be at ease, Helen Blackthorn. You are not the first part-blood to receive Marks nor will you be the last."_ His tone was surprisingly friendly for all that it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

But what if it was too soon? What if she wasn't ready? What if she really  _couldn't_ handle runes, as some whispered might happen. It hadn't ever happened, to Helen's knowledge - and yet, the Clave would not talk about such things if they had, would they? No one would want to admit that they'd inadvertently killed a child with their ceremony. Especially not to someone who was just about to go through it herself. Helen didn't voice these things, instead setting her expression to something of blank serenity and nodding at him. She took a slow breath, and released it, willing the tension out of her body as she did so.

It worked, a good emblem of how she had taken to her training over the months prior to this day. "I'd like it on the right side of my back." She said, in a small voice. "If... if that's okay."  
Andrew gave her another encouraging expression and withdrew to stand near the other kids and Eleanor, leaving Helen alone with the Silent Brother. 

Brother Zachariah gave no indication one way or another except to move behind her. Helen reached back and pulled the cascade of white gold curls across her shoulder to give him freer access to the unmarked skin of her back. Bluegreen eyes pressed tightly shut as the searing pain of a mark being drawn sliced through her. She took a slightly sharp breath in, and held it, willing herself to smooth out her features, willing herself to keep the muscles that the Silent Brother drew on as relaxed as they could be.

And then it was over. The pain ceased, and Helen knew that if she could seen the rune, it would be ink dark against pale skin. But it was done. 

_"Helen Blackthorn is now a Nephilim in her own right. Any questions about her being allowed to train here will be dismissed."_

And that seemed to be that. A moment later Mark grabbed one of her hands, smiling at her. "I told you it'd be okay." He murmured close to her ear as he hugged her. Helen giggled a bit, pushing him away just a hair, only to have Julian hug her next. It was true, he had told her. Late last night while she lay awake terrified for what would come the next day, he'd stayed with her last night, for the first time in several years. Helen was glad he'd stayed though, it had helped her sleep when she finally did. And it was nice, waking up beside her brother, even if it was also strange. Eleanor had been the one to come in and wake them - and their step mother had seemed completely unsurprised to see the pair curled together just as they had when they first came to the institute.

Helen was the oldest, she was supposed to be the one comforting her younger siblings. But sometimes... sometimes it was the other way around. Maybe that was okay though, family supporting each other, right? 

"Honestly you two act like I just did something major. All  _I_ did was sit there." Helen sounded amused, but there was a lot of relief in her tone, too. 


End file.
